


What Draco Malfoy Couldn't Say

by BonfireBright



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternative Perspective, F/M, Other, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Male Character, same ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:41:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22361116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonfireBright/pseuds/BonfireBright
Summary: A different perspective.Draco Malfoy's POV through the years.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy & Lucius Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26
Collections: Draco Malfoy - Villains, Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger





	What Draco Malfoy Couldn't Say

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I owned something, but I do not.
> 
> Please comment, this is my second ever fanfic and I need encouragement.

First Year:  
As a child he had hated her. He had to. He over compensated to such a degree that he got her to hate him with as much vehemence as he always projected. He forced her to hate him. Draco was a Malfoy after all, and the Malfoy’s had been bred to hate all things ‘other’ to their pure blood ways. The fact that Draco did not feel this way was the thing he was most ashamed of. After the failed handshake with Potter he found the handful of loyal and true Purebloods in his year at Hogwarts and he made sure to isolate himself with them. He would not show vulnerability again. No one ever need know that he was scared. Scared that he didn’t feel the hatred that was expected of him. Scared that he was not who he was meant to be. 

Second Year:  
He regretted calling her a mudblood the instant the word left his lips. He couldn’t let anyone know so he tormented her even more to counteract the guilt. He had watched her, intent on finding a reason to truly hate her, but as much as he wished her annoying teachers-pet tendencies would turn into traits worth hating, they simply were not. He had always been proud of his intelligence, but Hermione Granger made him work, hard. He consistently came second best to her, a fact that his father loved to comment on whenever the chance arose (or even when it didn’t), a comment he loved to punctuate with a quick little Cruciatus Curse. Hermione Granger wasn’t just smart, she was witty and funny and kind. And not allowed. Ever. 

Third Year:  
It was all because of that Hippogriff. It would have been fine if he hadn’t needed to prove he wasn’t a coward. It wasn’t the Hippogriff’s fault that Zabini had caught him at a week moment. He knew Zabini would keep his secret, but he needed to reclaim some street cred and the Hippogriff was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And then the beast went a kicked him and his Malfoy rage got the better of him. Before he knew it, his father was involved and calling for an execution and Draco couldn’t get out it anymore, he had to stand with his rage and follow through with what it had set in motion. He really didn’t want to see the poor beast be killed but Crabbe and Theo were desperate to see blood and he couldn’t think of a way to get out of it. Then the perfect trio found them watching Hagrid’s hut and Draco knew he had to put on a good show. Draco was a Malfoy and kindness and remorse where unacceptable. That was the first time Hermione ever touched him. The smack across his cheek smarted for days. Whenever he thought about that slap, he imagined her eyes, burning with a pure fury that he had created, and he felt sorrow. 

Fourth Year:  
And then fourth year happened. And she showed up to the Yule Ball in that dress. That dress was almost worth hating her for. How dare she become appealing. He spent the entire ball on the other side of the dance floor, as far away from her as possible, with Pansy Parkinson no less. If Hermione Granger was the Gryffindor Princess, then Pansy Parkinson was the Slytherin Heiress. She was what all Slytherin parents wanted for their sons. She was Pureblood and rich. She was vindictive. She was cruel. She was ideal. She was… not Hermione Granger. He was charming, of course. He had Pansy utterly convinced that he liked her. She was an excellent accessory after all for the Malfoy heir. He left the ball early, being sure to make it obvious he was leaving with Pansy, but he soon lost her claiming a headache. He spent the rest of the night thinking mutinous thoughts about the Malfoy fortune, about the Malfoy expectations, about his so called beliefs, about that infernal dress. 

Fifth Year:  
It wasn’t a matter of picking a side for him, his father had informed him he was to help Umbridge in any way that he could. He knew what the consequences of not completing this duty would entail. His father was cruel. He concealed the bruising and damage he always wore at the start of term easily given the nature of the Hogwarts uniform and the black jackets that he was gravitating towards. No one knew the extent of the violence Lucius Malfoy was capable of inflicting, not even Draco’s mother. He hid the worst of his father’s sins and those that he could not explain away added to his reputation as a fighter with his friends. He did truly hate Dumbledore’s Army. Not as much as Umbridge, but they were a close second. He hated that they were doing something. He hated that they were acting. And he hated that he was not. He hated that they were making plans for their future and he hated that those plans would take her that much further away from him. All he could do was watch from afar as Hermione Granger became a legend right in front of his eyes. 

Sixth Year:  
After the situation at the Ministry, his father was gone. The brutality of that man had already done the damage he had intended, Draco took the Dark Mark and accepted his fate as a Death Eater. There was no escape for a Malfoy, they were all doomed. He was eternally grateful to the Potions Master for teaching him Occlumency in second year, there was no way the weakness in his heart would go unnoticed by The Dark Lord otherwise. The weakness was a poison, he wanted, he needed to cut it out of him, in order to complete his mission, to protect his mother. When Potter caught him in the bathroom he reacted on instinct. He did not hate Hermione Granger anymore, he couldn’t even pretend otherwise now. But he certainly hated Potter. The Malfoy rage blinded him, and his vision was tinted with blood and he wanted to kill Potter, at least he could trust this hatred. It was clean and untainted by The Dark Lord; this hatred had been there since they were innocents. But Potter was at an advantage and caught him off guard. Draco felt the curse hit him square in the chest but there was a moment of absolute clarity before his blood began to pour out of his body. If this was it, he could rest, it could be over, he wouldn’t need to fear anymore, he wanted to die. And then the pain struck, and he lost all sense of meaning. And then Snape was there and then he was in the hospital wing and he hadn’t died and now he had to continue this blood thirsty, violent, preordained path. 

Malfoy Manor:  
And there she was, in his house, Hermione Granger. And there was nothing he could do to protect her. His cruel aunt was wrecking her, breaking her, destroying her. And there was nothing he could do but watch. He was the coward he had always pretended not to be.

The Battle for Hogwarts:  
And somehow, he had survived. He was walking across no-man’s-land towards his parents. His father was there, and he wanted to run and scream and fight and cry and sleep and beg for forgiveness at her feet all at once. He had seen her, Hermione Granger, when they were saving him from the Room of Requirement and again when they walked out into the courtyard, there she was again, mere feet away from him. But he could not go to her because his father and The Dark Lord were on the other side of this battle. And his mother was there too. His mother. He needed to protect her. He could do nothing else. He walked away from Hermione Granger and followed his parents away from the battle and towards the Forbidden Forest. Deeper and deeper they walked until at last his mother turned to face her son and her husband. And it was as if Draco had never seen her before. There was pain and fury and hatred buried deep in her eyes and they were trained on Lucius. And before he could register the thought that flit across her face, she had struck her husband with the most unforgiveable Unforgiveable Curse, and Lucius was no more. And he was free. 

Nineteen Years Later:  
He could see her. He had not seen that face, other than the occasional photograph in the Daily prophet, for nineteen years. Hermione Granger was standing with her husband and children. They were clearly waiting for the Potters to join their merry band. And he thought back to the way her life had hung in a balance with his own so many years before. How he had loved her from afar for all those years and that by treasuring all that was good in her, even subconsciously, he had learnt to find what good remained within himself. Smiling wistfully, he looked down adoringly at his small son. He was the mirror image of himself. But where Draco had been hard and reserved and scared, his son was vibrant and happy and safe. And though she may never know it, Draco knew that it was his love for Hermione Granger that helped him hold onto his humanity. His love for her allowed him to forgive past wrongs, committed by himself and others. His love enabled him to create a family with his new love and together they had made this beautiful child that stood staring up into his father’s smiling, care-free face. And all was well.


End file.
